


Until I'm Fine

by tygermine



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when the love of your life sends you letters from beyond the grave?</p><p>Written for Reel_Merlin 2013<br/>PS, I Love You AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until I'm Fine

**Author's Note:**

> What a challange to write this, but I made it!
> 
> Thanks to the mods for hosting.
> 
> Beta'd by microsoft word. Any remaining errors are my own and please, point them out.
> 
> Comments and kudos always welcome!
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm too poor to sue.

 

Chapter 1

 

“Do you think he’s alive?” a voice whispered, ear pressed to the green front door of number 24 Luxley Road, Hereford.

 

“I don’t smell a dead body,” came a whispered response.

 

Morgana and Lance were standing in front of Arthur’s house with their partners, Leon and Gwen. Leon leaned against a white pillar that held up the first floor balcony, while Gwen stood across from him, wringing her hands.

 

“I think he might have died under a pile of Indian take out, hiding the smell,” Morgana said softly.

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Don’t be silly. I’m sure he’s fine.”

 

The door suddenly rattled as a deafening bass thump echoed through the house.

 

“Is that….Bon Jovi?” Leon frowned, leaning in to hear.

 

_You give love…a bad name_

 

“Oh Jesus, he’s in worse shape than we thought. Leon, kick down the door.” Morgana stood back and indicated to Leon with her hand. Lance hastily scrambled out of the way.

 

With a sigh, Leon stepped towards the door, pulled out his spare key from his back pocket and opened it.

 

The foursome crept into the entrance hall, sidestepping the mountain of post accumulated on the floor. Take out cartons, empty beer tins and bourbon bottles lay haphazardly across every surface.

 

They stepped further into the house, following the Richie Sambora guitar solo and froze at the sight of Arthur, standing on his couch, wearing nothing but his tightie whities and a rather tight Sioux and the Banshees t-shirt playing air guitar.

 

Morgana froze, mouth hanging open. Leon tried to hide his smile with a grimace. Gwen gasped and Lance, well, he was inspecting a nearby pizza box. The remaining slices had grown into a semi sentient being. He suspected that given another week, they could probably enrol it in school.

 

“Yeah you give love a bad name!” Arthur sang along, pounding his imaginary guitar, lips pursed, power rock pose and hair in a state. As the song ended, he turned to step off the couch, caught sight of his friends and promptly misstepped, falling between the couch and the heavily loaded coffee table.

 

Gwen and Morgana rushed to his prone figure.

 

“Arthur! Arthur! Are you okay?” Gwen gasped, rolling him onto his back.

 

“Evidently not,” Morgana supplied, softly pushing his hair out of his eyes. His usual short back and sides had grown out and now he resembled the dog from the Dulux advertisements.

 

“Ow,” Arthur whined.

 

They helped him sit up, his back against the couch. Lance and Leon pushed some detritus out of the way and took a seat opposite him.

 

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked, trying to pull the t-shirt down to hide his undies. It wasn’t very successful.

 

“We haven’t seen you in weeks,” Morgana threw her arms up in exasperation. “We thought you’d died.”

 

Arthur’s expression darkened.

 

“I’m…I’m sorry, that was callous of me.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “We were worried about you.”

 

“I’m fine,” he said, shrugging off her arm and standing up.

 

“You’re in mourning, we understand that. But you have to look after yourself.” Gwen stood up and joined Lance on the couch, sitting on his lap.

 

“Oh come on, we all know I can barely look after myself. That’s why Sophia…” he broke off, his throat closing, tears burning behind his eyes. “I’m fine.”

 

“Arthur, you need to stop this. Clean this place up. Have a shower. We’re taking you out.” Leon stood and took Arthur’s elbow, intent on leading him to the bathroom upstairs. “You smell worse than a French truck driver.”

 

Arthur let Leon lead him upstairs, ignoring the jibe at his personal grooming, or lack thereof.

 

As Leon turned on the shower, Arthur leaned against the basin, arms crossed. “I don’t want to go out.”

 

“It’s your birthday, Arthur.”

 

Arthur blinked. “It is? But my birthday’s in September.”

 

“It is September.”

 

“But Sophia’s funeral was just the other day.”

 

“It was in April.” Leon kept his voice soft.

 

“April 5th. The second worst day of my life.” Arthur felt his limbs grow heavy at the memories running through his mind. The bright sunshine on the day, the blonde wood of the coffin, the white and purple orchids everywhere. The giant question mark hanging over the rest of his life.

Where to from here?

 

He’d left the funeral, gone home and stayed there. For the past five months it seems.

 

Leon gently nudged Arthur into action. He turned to give Arthur some privacy as he stripped and stepped into the shower.

 

Tears ran down his face, mingling with the hot water as he spied Sophia’s shampoo still on the wire rack hanging from the shower head. She had always indulged in the most ridiculous concoctions. The month she died, she was working her way through a bottle of Green Tea, Mint and Greek Yoghurt shampoo.

 

He’d never hear her say “I like making you hungry every time you smell my hair” and hear her giggle mischievously afterwards.

 

“Arthur,” Leon’s voice shocked him back to the present and with mechanical motions, he washed his hair with her shampoo and lathered his body with her coconut and lime body wash. When he brushed his teeth, he couldn’t catch his eye’s reflection in the mirror.

 

Leon lay out some clean clothes he’d found at the back of the walk in cupboard and stood by while Arthur got dressed.

 

It took over an hour before they headed back downstairs. In the interim, the girls, with Lance’s help, had cleaned up most of the mess on the ground floor.

 

They chatted happily about gossip they’d heard, new bands they liked and anything they could to keep their minds off the sadness pushing at the edges of their thoughts.

 

***

 

Dinner was an abysmal disaster.

 

Arthur had blanched as they approached the restaurant and refused to go inside. They chose a local pub, which Arthur also refused to enter. The Thai restaurant down the block was also vetoed. Eventually, the group ended up at a generic Bar-One just off the high street.

 

Sophia hated generic anything, especially restaurants and insisted they support the local independent pubs in their area. There wasn’t a pub in a ten mile radius that didn’t assault him with memories of her.

 

They sat around a table, examining the menus. Arthur ignored his, ordering a bottle of red wine instead. He purposely ignored the worried looks exchanged between his friends and began working his way through the bottle.

 

It was too loud. People were too happy. Didn’t they know she wasn’t there anymore? Didn’t they care?

 

Morgana and Gwen kept up the conversation as best they could, but it was a losing battle. Arthur nodded in the right places, gave one word answers but it was obvious he didn’t want to be there.

 

They dropped him back home afterwards, their mouths pinched in sadness as he swayed to his front door and back into his nest.

 

***

 

Leon knocked on the green door two days later. When Arthur didn’t answer it, he let himself in and found his friend lying on the couch watching Coronation Street. A bowl half full of popcorn lay on his chest.

 

“The dry cleaners called. Said you haven’t come to pick up your clothes, so I collected it for you.”

 

Arthur didn’t respond. He popped some popcorn into his mouth instead.

 

“I’m just going to put these over here,” Leon hung the garments on the coat rack by the fireplace and slunk out of the apartment. Before he closed the door, he called over his shoulder. “Your leather jacket is in there.”

 

***

 

It took Arthur three days before he looked at the dry cleaning. The weather was turning and he could do with his leather jacket if he was ever going to leave the house.

He dragged it off the hanger and pulled it on. Something crinkled in the inside pocket. Reaching in, he felt the hard edges of an envelope.

 

It had his name in her handwriting on the front. He ripped it open and slumped onto the couch to read it.

 

_My darling Arthur,_

_I know the days without me are not what you’d like them to be. But you need to get off the couch. Go outside. Get some fresh air. Feel the sunshine on your face._

_That will be me, smiling down on you with all my love to warm you up._

_Sophia_

_PS, I love you._

A fiery spike of anger drove itself through his stomach and his hands began to shake.

 

Was this some sick joke?

 

He looked down at the letter in his hands, the paper beginning to wrinkle under his grip. It was her flowing handwriting, he’d recognise it anywhere. Where did it come from?

 

He collapsed onto his couch, clutching the letter to his chest.

 

Sophia had died suddenly, and tragically. A horse riding accident that snapped her neck, killing her instantly.

 

The tears forced themselves from between his lashes, soaking his cheeks and constricting his chest. He curled up on the couch, and felt his heart break all over again.

 

***

 

Arthur’s neighbours had begun decorating their homes with Jack’o Lanterns and the leaves had begun turning a riot of golds, maroons and littering the sidewalks.

 

He had just returned home after his first week back at work. The ice cold beers in the fridge beckoned him with their siren calls.

 

To say it had been a bad week was an understatement. All the pitying looks and knowing pauses in conversations. All he wanted to do was stand on his desk and shout at everyone to just act normally around him. He wasn’t crystal that would break at the wrong word.

 

Arthur picked up the post on the doormat before heading towards the kitchen. As he flipped through the junk mail, a letter caught his attention.

 

It was in her handwriting.

 

He suddenly felt as brittle as crystal.

 

He sat down and opened it.

 

_Happy Halloween my love,_

_Have you kicked a pile of fallen leaves yet? You love doing that. Don’t forget to buy jelly babies for the kids that will come knocking on your door._

_Your Sophia._

_PS, I love you._

 

His brittle crystal shattered. He forewent the beers and dug through the cupboards for a bottle of scotch instead.

 

***

 

“Which one of you sociopaths is sending me these letters?” Arthur raged in Morgana’s living room, the stench of scotch thick and sickening.

 

Morgana and Leon sat on the couch, while Gwen and Lance had the loveseat.  Their eyes were wide at Arthur’s rant, their lips tight not to provoke him further.

 

Arthur had arrived five minutes earlier, reeling drunk with crumpled pieces of paper in his hands. He narrowly missed the Christmas tree in the corner as he turned on his heel and paced back in front of the fireplace.

 

“I know you are a bunch of schemers, but this? This is low, even for you. Letters from the dead? My dead wife sending me a Christmas card? How much longer are you planning to torture me?”

 

He slumped onto his knees, bending at the waist, trying to hide his tears.

 

Morgana was the first to speak.

 

“Arthur, we didn’t write these letters. Sophia did. I promise you that.”

 

She moved to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and holding him close.

 

Christmas dinner was going to be a little delayed that night.

 

***

 

After his breakdown at Christmas, the next letter made him smile.

 

_My dearest love,_

_Now that I’m sure you had your temper tantrum at our friends and family, it’s time for you to move on. Spoil yourself. Find something you enjoy and do it with all your heart. Leave that job you loathe._

_Be happy. Not just for me, but for yourself._

_Your Sophia._

_PS, I love you._

 

New Years Eve found Arthur sitting alone, in his house with a case of beer and a few bottles of scotch. In a peak of masochism, he was watching the DVD of his wedding.

 

On repeat.

 

By the time the clock struck midnight and the rest of the country was blowing whistles, snogging the person next to them and singing Auld Lang Syne, Arthur had reached a point beyond drunk.

 

His world had narrowed down to the images on the TV of Sophia smiling widely, dropping chaste kisses on his cheek and whispering sweet nothings in his ears. Her latest letter lay on the couch next to him. He could no longer read the words, his eyes too blurred by the booze. But he knew it word for word.

 

A thought struck him.

 

She was right! He had to move on. New Years Eve was all about moving on.

 

Not away from her, but to a part of his life that was parallel to the one he would have had with her. A step to the right, in a way.

 

He stumbled off the couch and weaved his way to the kitchen. On the side of the cupboard, by the kitchen door was a whiteboard where they’d write down important messages.

 

Her last message was still there – _“I’m in the mood for noodles!”_

 

Swallowing down the bile that pushed upwards, he picked up the wiper and closed his eyes while erasing the last tangible evidence of her existence in their home.

 

Squinting at the board, he scribbled his New Year’s resolutions onto it in a chicken scrawl.

 

He then fell back against the fridge, slid to the floor and passed out.

 

***

 

The snow lay thick on the ground in the garden when Arthur stepped out the next day. Well, maybe the day after. He’d lost a few days after New Years with his hangover. But today, well, today he’d made it outside.

 

He carefully trudged to the wooden shed at the bottom of the garden and opened the door. It was surprisingly empty of the general debris one piles up in garden sheds over the years.

 

Arthur looked around the small shed. It was comfortably cosy. Three meters wide and four meters long.

 

He nodded. Yes, this will do nicely.

 

***

 

By the time spring had pushed flower buds through the remaining snow and the sun stayed out a little longer, Arthur had transformed hi s garden shed into a fully operational carpenter’s workshop.

 

The day after he’d finished his first picnic table set, he had handed in his resignation at work.

 

He began building outdoor furniture and selling it at local farmers markets. His furniture was popular, with its intricate carvings and sturdy design.

 

Arthur kept himself busy late into the night, every night. He’d only pack up and head inside when he was too tired to continue. Too tired to notice Sophia’s smell was disappearing from their bedroom. Too tired to notice he’d begun to move on.

 

***

 

Summer was in full swing and Arthur was almost happy. But something deep inside ached whenever he saw his friends. The two couples bantering, laughing and loving together.

 

He was standing at the gas barbeque set Morgana had bought Leon for Christmas, aimlessly poking at the beef sausages and sirloin steaks on the grill.

Leon stood beside him, offering the occasional grilling comment. Mostly they just sipped their beers.

 

“Morgana wants to set you up with a girlfriend of hers,” he said, eyes sliding to examine his friend.

 

“That would be nice.” Arthur surprised himself with his response.

 

“Really?”

 

Arthur sighed. “I miss Sophia, but it’s been a year since she…passed. I just…I miss that.” He pointed to where Lance had his arms wrapped around Gwen’s waist, blowing raspberries into her neck.

“It’s just…before I met Sophia; I wasn’t worried about being single. I liked it. But then, things with her. Well, they were amazing. And I miss having her around. I miss going to sleep with her and her cold feet on my legs. I miss arguing with her about what movie to watch. And the thing is, once you’ve had that, going back to being single sucks.”

 

He took a deep sip of his beer.

 

“Sometimes…sometimes I get so mad at her. Sometimes I wish we’d never met, so that I didn’t have to lose her.”

 

“Arthur –“

 

“Sometimes it would have been easier if she’d just divorced me. At least then I’d have someone to be angry at. Like, what the hell did I ever do to deserve this amazing woman, only to have her taken away like that? Leon, it’s not fucking fair.”

 

Arthur snapped his jaw shut. That was the most he’d spoken to anyone about Sophia since she’d died. He just couldn’t help it. The words forced themselves out before he could stop them. He looked down at the grill, pushing the meat back and forth.

 

Leon nodded, clapped Arthur on the shoulder before squeezing it slightly.

 

They sipped their beers.

 

***

 

The blind date was a bit of a disaster.

 

“You can’t keep comparing every person you meet to Sophia, Arthur!” Morgana beseeched over the phone.

 

Arthur sighed, nodded and hung up. He ignored his phone for the rest of the day.

 

***

 

A letter arrived one day from Sophia.

 

_My darling Arthur,_

_This is my last letter to you, so read carefully._

_There is a town in Ireland called Ealdor. It is a very special place to me and I have a feeling I will never be able to take you there. So please, go there for me. Place a yellow rose on a rock called “Bad Idea”. It sounds like a stupid name, but for a good reason._

_It was my favourite spot in the entire town. And once you see it, you’ll understand why._

_Go, my love. One final goodbye._

_PS, I love you._

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what to make of the letter. Or any of the ones he’d received before it. But true to his love’s request, he travelled to Dublin, hired a car and set the GPS to Ealdor.

 

***

Chapter 2

 

Ealdor was a fishing village on the North West coast of Ireland, in a remote county with tiny lanes.

 

The church was a modest stone building and the first sign of civilisation after hours of driving. There was a pub, post office, and general dealer all lined up next to each other. Arthur parked in front of the pub with a sigh. He’d forgotten to book a room before he’d left and prayed there was someplace with a bed for him.

 

As with any tiny, rural pub, once you cross the threshold, all conversation peters out and you are ogled as if you had an extra head, or you know, good teeth. Which Arthur in fact had.

 

He gave a tight smile to the five patrons, who obviously believed that drinking before 11am was a good idea, and stepped up to the bar.

 

The barman was wearing Bermuda shorts and a white t-shirt with flip flops. He had short, peroxided hair and an unfortunate lip piercing. He looked up from the newspaper spread on the counter.

 

“Can I help you mate?” His smile was lopsided, but genuine.

 

“A pint please. And possibly directions to a guest house of sorts?”

 

The barman huffed a laugh and poured Arthur’s pint.  “No such thing around here. But I know old Merlin’s got some spare rooms in his place by the water.” He indicated with his head to where Arthur presumed the beach was.

 

“I…I don’t want to intrude on a private house.”

 

“Oh please. If his ma found out I made you stay in one of the rooms upstairs, she’d have my balls.”

 

Arthur was in two minds about this. He was more than happy to sleep in his rental car, especially considering the only rooms available sounded a lot like Bates Motel. But on the other hand, his car did not come equipped with a shower. And after all the driving, he’d donate his own balls for one.

 

“All right. How do I get in touch with Merlin or his mother?”

 

The barman pushed Arthur’s pint towards him and nodded towards the door. “Merlin’s out on the boat right now, but follow the road to  
the end. There’s a stone house. Called The Keep. Knock on the door and tell her Will sent you.”

 

Arthur nodded his thanks, paid for his pint and sipped it quickly, without appearing to gulp it down. He swiftly retreated to his car and followed Will’s directions.

 

About two miles down, the road came to a dead end.

 

Just beyond the rise, Arthur could see the ocean swelling and dipping. The North Atlantic was grey and ominous looking. Just like the house in front of him.

 

It was a square, two storey stone cottage with a green door and blue window frames. The small garden was a riot of blooms surrounded by a picket fence with white paint peeling off in places.

 

He parked his car and nervously made his way up to the door.

 

_“Oh Sophia, where have you sent me?”_

***

 

Arthur hesitantly knocked on the door. He heard a voice call out from inside the house and the rapid footsteps of someone approaching.

 

The door swung open to reveal a woman in her late forties, wearing a pair of jeans, a light blue t-shirt and leather sandals. She was pulling gardening gloves from her hands.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Um...Hi,” Arthur found himself fumbling for words. “Will sent me.”

 

“Oh, you must be the Englishman. He called a few minutes ago. Please come in. I’m Hunith.”

 

“Nice to meet you. I don’t mean to intrude-“

 

“Oh it’s no intrusion,” Hunith interrupted him, leading him down the hallway to an airy kitchen with a conservatory extension. “Cup of tea?”

 

Arthur nodded.

 

“We rent out rooms to travellers, what with Ealdor being so small. A hotel just wouldn’t survive. Merlin is out on the boat at the moment, but he should be back in time for dinner. He’s my son. Good lad too.” She put on the kettle and took two mugs off the shelf. “So tell me, Arthur, what brings you to Ealdor?”

 

Arthur stood awkwardly near the door, unsure where to sit. Hunith motioned for him to take a seat at the kitchen table. He sat down and looked around the kitchen. It had a homey feel to it, with an ancient Aga coal oven in the corner warming up the room and bunches of herbs, hanging up to dry nearby.

 

“A friend recommended I come here. Well, not so much a friend. My wife. My late wife.”

 

Hunith poured the boiling water into the mugs and placed sugar and milk on the table before handing Arthur his mug.

 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

 

“Thank you.” He sipped his tea. “Maybe you knew her? Sophia O’Hanlon?”

 

Hunith paused, mug raised to her lips. With a slight tremor, she placed it back on the table. “I remember her very well. Her and my Merlin were inseparable as children.”

 

She eyed Arthur with weary suspicion. “No one told us she had passed.”

 

“She never told me about this place when she…when we were together.”

 

“If I may ask, how did she die?”

 

“Horse jumping accident. Snapped her neck.”

 

“Then how did you find out about Ealdor?”

 

“Letters. She sent me letters.”

 

Hunith nodded as if confirming something to herself. “Sophia was a bit of an odd one. A hooligan as a child. But she had a heart of gold, and that smile of hers – one couldn’t stay mad at her.”

 

Arthur nodded in agreement, his throat closing as her laugh echoed in his mind. He stoically sipped his tea.

 

After tea, Hunith showed him to his room on the first floor. It had a large bay window that overlooked the ocean.

 

Hunith left him to start supper while Arthur unpacked and settled in.

 

About an hour later, he heard the door bang close downstairs. He crept down the stairs towards the kitchen. Hunith and a young man were talking quietly. The young man sat at the table, shoulders hunched over. Hunith patted his back sympathetically.

 

Arthur turned towards the front door and quietly made his way outside. He found a pathway that led to the beach.

 

It may have been midsummer, but the wind still had a slight bite to it and the ocean was not calling you to wade into it.

 

He sat down on the sand, rested his elbows on his knees and found himself talking to Sophia as if she were right next to him.

 

“You had so many secrets to share, didn’t you? I just want you to explain your letters and why you sent me here. I’m…still lost without you.”

 

The whistling wind was the only response he received.

 

“Supper is nearly ready,” came a voice behind him.

 

Arthur turned and looked up at the young man from the kitchen. His mop of black hair was being mussed by the wind. His smile, friendly.

 

“Thank you,” he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans.

 

The young man held out his hand. “I’m Merlin. You met my mum earlier.”

 

“Oh, right. Hello. I’m-“

 

“Arthur. Yeah. Mum told me.” They shook hands. “Mum also told me you knew Sophia.”

 

Arthur hung his head. “I did.”

 

“Come on; let’s get out of the wind. You can tell me about her when we’re inside.”

 

Arthur followed Merlin up to the house, leaving the wind and the ocean behind him.

 

***

After a pleasant dinner, Merlin invited Arthur to Will’s pub for a post dinner drink.

 

The pub was packed with nearly every resident of the small town. Everyone greeted Merlin by name as they walked in, and Will had two pints waiting on the bar by the time they approached.

 

“O’Leery and Donnegal are waiting for you,” Will indicated towards a small raised area that had been cleared of tables and chairs. Two weather-beaten old men sat up there. One with a banjo and the other an accordion. Will picked up a guitar and handed it to Merlin across the bar.

 

With a smile, Merlin took his pint and the guitar and joined the two men on the “stage”.

 

The crowd responded with hoots and applause.

 

As Merlin settled into a seat and strummed his guitar, Will leaned over the bar to Arthur.

 

“They play nearly every night. Merlin could have been a rock star, you know?”

 

Arthur huffed a laugh. Nearly every man with a guitar wished they were a rock star. And then Merlin began to play and Arthur found himself agreeing with Will. Merlin was rather brilliant.

 

The crowd sang along with the “band” and pints flowed. After an hour, the men left the stage and Merlin made his way across to Arthur, who was leaning a little heavily against the bar.

 

“If I had knickers, I would have thrown them at you,” Arthur tried not to slur. It must have been the ocean air, not the five pints he’d already imbibed. “I mean…um…”

 

Merlin just smiled, a little lopsidedly. “I’ll take the compliment, thanks.”

 

With another round in hand, Merlin led Arthur to a table in a corner. He was toying with the condensation rings on the wooden surface.

 

“I have to tell you something about Sophia.” Merlin looked Arthur in the eyes and held his gaze. “When we were kids, she had a special…ability.”

 

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “You’re not talking about that thing she does with-“

 

“Oh no, that she learnt in Uni and not from me. No, what I mean is. Well. Thing is.” Merlin took a long swig of his beer. “Do you know anything about the legends of this place?”

 

Arthur shook his head.

 

“Legend goes that this place is sacred. And some people born here are given a gift.”

 

“Like the ability to drink vast amounts of beer without slurring?” Arthur was a facetious drunk.

 

“More like magical powers. Like Sophia. She had the Sight.”

 

It took a few moments for Merlin’s words to sink in.

 

“Yeah, and you’re a wizard, Merlin.” Arthur’s Hagrid accent was atrocious, causing Merlin to laugh loudly.

 

“No, you dolt. I’m serious. Since we were young, Sophia could see things before they happened. I reckon she saw the accident and wrote you those letters.”

 

Arthur’s blood began to boil. He slammed his fist onto the table. “If she had seen the accident coming, then why didn’t she stop it?” He pushed back from the table and stormed out of the pub.

 

***

 

Merlin found Arthur sitting on a wooden bench outside the small church. His head in his hands.

 

“The thing about the Sight, is that you can’t change it. It is the one conclusion to many different decisions.”

 

“Fuck you, and fuck your bullshit magic stories. Sophia didn’t have the Sight. She was a graphic designer. She loved growing herbs and trying to out-cook Australian Masterchef. She loved drinking wine, despite the hangovers they gave her. She loved watching the Kardashians but never told anyone.”

 

“She always told me she’d marry a good man, with blonde hair and blue eyes,” Merlin said, sitting down next to Arthur. “She told me I’d leave Ealdor one day and become a famous musician. But also said that before that could happen, I had to fall in love.”

 

“She didn’t have the Sight.”

 

“She wrote those letters because she knew what would happen. She wanted to help you grieve.”

 

“Well, it made it worse.” Arthur wanted to stand up and leave, but found himself leaning against Merlin instead. A pair of strong arms that smelled salty and earthy at the same time wrapped around him and held him. Arthur felt something slide into place, somewhere deep inside.

 

***

After that evening, Arthur found himself slowly accepting that maybe Merlin was right. Maybe Sophia did, in fact, have the Sight. He remembered little comments she’d make that didn’t make sense at the time, but now, they made perfect sense.

 

He also found himself spending a lot of time with Merlin. They would go out on Merlin’s boat together. Arthur learnt how to handle the fishing nets and not throw up with every heave the boat gave over the waves.

 

In the evenings, they’d go down the pub and share a few drinks while swopping stories about not only Sophia, but their own lives as well.

 

It was coming to the end of Arthur’s stay when he suddenly remembered something Sophia had mentioned in her letter.

 

“What is Bad Idea Rock?” Arthur asked one night as they were walking back from the pub.

 

“I’ll have to show you,” Merlin said and veered off the road, through an alley that opened out to a field. Arthur followed him across the field until they reached a small bay a few miles away from the village.

 

Sticking out into the bay was a large, flat slab of granite. Merlin led him onto the rock, the waves lapping softly around it.

 

Arthur looked up and saw a full moon with a cascade of stars running alongside it.

 

“It’s beautiful out here,” he murmured.

 

He felt, more than saw Merlin nod in agreement.

 

“So why is this Bad Idea Rock?” he asked, turning to Merlin, who was smiling slyly.

 

“Are you having a bad idea at this moment?”

 

Artur blinked. It was fleeting, but the idea to kiss Merlin had been there a moment ago.

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“This place, it inspires you to do something you shouldn’t.”

 

“Are you feeling inspired?”

 

Merlin smiled. “Most definitely.” He stepped closer to Arthur, their bodies a mere inch apart.

 

“Yep, definitely a bad idea,” Arthur said before pulling Merlin into a kiss.

 

***

 

Arthur left two days later with a promise to return soon. Merlin just smiled and nodded. He knew Arthur would.

 

Sophia had seen it all and had sent Merlin a letter of his own to prepare him for Arthur.

 

_Love him, and look after him for me._

 

Merlin knew Arthur was the man he was going to fall in love with.

 

The End.


End file.
